Jon leaned back in his chair, a smile tugging at his lips as his eyes ranged over her.
"Are you quite through ogling?" Sarah snapped.
"I was admiring your outfit," Jon replied.
Sarah jabbed a finger at the bundle of papers. "I refuse to let a group of underhanded pettifoggers prevent me from achieving my goal."
"I told you last night the city council was opposed to women in business and you wouldn't find them very supportive," Jon said.
Sarah braced her hands on his desk and leaned toward him. "But you didn't tell me they'd stoop so low as to fabricate papers in an attempt to undermine my efforts!"
"Isn't that a bit strong?"
"What exactly do you call it? I'm obviously being singled out as a scapegoat!"
Jon rose. "A scapegoat's one who bears the blame for others," he pointed out, while walking around his desk. "Is that what you're doing? Being a martyr for all the women who've suffered throughout the ages for their misfortune of… being a woman?"
"A scapegoat is also the victim of unreasonable hostility," Sarah countered.
Jon laughed lightly. "Believe me, Miss Ashley, I feel anything but hostility toward you."
Sarah glared at him. "I see I'm getting nowhere here." She turned and marched out of the room, slamming the door behind.
At the end of the hallway, she lowered herself to a bench, tears of frustration stinging her eyes. Blinking to clear her vision, she saw a newspaper resting on the bench beside her. The heading, ECONOMY FAILING UNDER CROMWELL, caught her attention. Lifting the paper, she scanned the editorial, reading the words: ...in fact, we believe that the man who will not ask Her Majesty's Government to remove Governor Cromwell and his council is a traitor to his country and unworthy of her protection...
Sarah surmised that the author of the editorial was the editor Esther mentioned, the political adversary of Jon's administration. Searching for the man's name, she found the peculiar appellation, Amor De Cosmos. She contemplated the name, deliberating whether it was genuine, then, deciding it made no difference, she continued to read, smiling at the conclusion, which described Governor Cromwell's House of Assembly as ...a wizened contrivance which has kept its doors so closed to the invigorating popular breeze that it has become asthmatic...
A little glimmer of hope flared. Mr. Amor De Cosmos would certainly not give a scrap whether one addle-minded female got a business license or not, but she was willing to bet he'd listen to her plight and turn it against the bureaucrats.
With a renewed sense of confidence, she left the building and instructed the coachman to take her to the office of the newspaper, and after a short ride around the bay, the coach pulled to a halt in front of a brick building with brass letters on its facade reading, The British Colonist. At first, she made no attempt to leave the coach, reconsidering her brash move. After all, she was a guest in Jon's home. But he and his cabinet were also behind the scheme to prevent her from acquiring a license.
"Well, if I am to be a lone sheep among wolves," she mumbled while collecting her parasol and reticule, "then I must learn to defend myself." She stepped down from the coach, squared her shoulders, and marched into the building.
A tall, lean man with black hair and a short-cropped black beard appeared from a back room. When he saw her, a flash of amusement crossed his face. As he approached, Sarah had the feeling his dark eyes had taken in every detail of her attire, even though they'd scanned her so quickly, she'd barely caught their movement. "May I help you?" he asked.
"Yes," Sarah replied. "I'm looking for Mr. De Cosmos."
"I am Amor De Cosmos," the man replied.
Sarah felt a deep nagging uneasiness. Mr. De Cosmos could turn an editorial against her as well if he so chose. Focusing on her reason for being there, she introduced herself and began recounting the incidents leading to her predicament.
Amor De Cosmos sat, hip propped on his desk, listening intently while she related the facts surrounding her impasse with the city council. When she'd finished, he stepped to the window and gazed out. "Are you familiar with the many brothels on Humboldt Street?" he asked, while continuing to peer out the window.
Sarah looked at the man's back, puzzled. He seemed to be completely ignoring her problem.
After a few moments, De Cosmos turned and fixed his eyes on her. "Sinks of iniquity and pollution. Disease in every form and kindred vices in all their hideous manifestations lurk there," he said, stabbing a finger skyward for emphasis.
Sarah was beginning to see his point. Her predicament seemed insignificant. Chagrinned, she said. "I'm sorry to have taken up your time. I'll just be on my way and—"
"Indian men sell their wives and daughters into prostitution for money to buy whiskey," De Cosmos cut in, "but this is not discouraged in our city. No! Businesses here depend on the fur traders and prospectors who seek the prostitutes. To sum it up for you, Miss Ashley, Victoria has laws against brothels, but instead of abolishing the houses of debasement, the city council voted to license them as dance halls."
"But I don't see how that makes the houses any more reputable," Sarah said. "They're still exactly what they are, dens of iniquity."
"Exactly. And this is the mentality of the present administration," De Cosmos said. "As long as these venal agents of the Hudson's Bay Company continue to rule this colony, the desires of the fur traders and Indians will prevail over the dignity and sensibilities of decent citizens."
"I'm sorry, Mr. De Cosmos, but I don't know what this has to do with me, nor do I know, exactly, what you're trying to point out," Sarah finally admitted.
De Cosmos stroked his black beard. "What I'm trying to point out is this administration's scandalous disregard for the moral and legal rights of the citizens. Decent people have moved into Victoria, people who are subjected to the habitual drunkenness and offensive language continually used in public because of the brothels, yet the city council condones this depravity by issuing business licenses to brothels hidden under the guise of being dance halls, while denying a license to" —with a graceful flourish of his arm, De Cosmos extended an upturned palm toward Sarah— "one enterprising citizen trying to establish a mercantile business."
Sarah relaxed her frown. Was the man on her side? His words suggested he was. Peering up at him, she said in a tentative voice, "Then... you think I've been treated unjustly?"
"Absolutely!" De Cosmos passed his hand in a slow arc through the air, his eyes following its path as he said, "Headline: ‘CITY FATHERS FAVOR BROTHELS. Several unjust legal enactments have come down from our semi-barbarous city council, the most recent being the licensing of houses of prostitution as dance halls and now the denial of business licenses to honest citizens. If prostitutes are allowed to practice their trade in our fair city, certainly one decent, enterprising young woman should be allowed to practice her trade as well...'"
Sarah watched and listened as De Cosmos paced the room, his fiery zeal reflected in his eyes. She had no idea what the outcome of an editorial such as he proposed would be, but she knew she didn't want to be a guest in Governor Cromwell's home when the editorial reached the streets of Victoria. Somehow, she and Mandi must find other lodging before that time...
"...by a city council comprised of men who have been all their lives among Indians, swapping baubles and blankets for furs at a profit of two thousand percent," De Cosmos concluded. He paused and waited for Sarah's comment.
Sarah smiled. "As Mrs. Amelia Bloomer once said, 'for a new movement, when advertising funds are modest, any publicity is better than none.' I venture to say, my mission will be well-known after the editorial appears."
De Cosmos replied with a contemplative, drawn-out, "Well... yes... And so the ladies of Victoria are well-informed, what exactly will you be selling in your store?"
Sarah gestured toward the tunic and baggy trousers she was wearing, and said, "Bloomer costumes." She reached into her reticule and withdrew an advertising handbill with drawings and literature about the garments
she intended to manufacture, and offered it to De Cosmos. "I'll also be selling an array of overtunics and shirtwaisters similar to these."
As De Cosmos studied the handbill, a hint of amusement lifted one corner of his mouth. After a few moments, he eyed her costume again, and said, "May I have this handbill?"
Sarah shrugged. "Yes. I have more."
"Have you a name for your business?"
"Sarah Ashley's Fashions," Sarah replied.
"Splendid." De Cosmos' mouth curved in a rueful smile. "I have an idea which will help your cause, and mine. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must get back to work." He opened the door for her to leave. Although Sarah wanted to learn more about what he had in mind, she realized she was being dismissed.
She left the office, praising her good fortune in coming to see Amor De Cosmos, but once on the street, a vague uneasiness began to creep over her. She'd come to Victoria to start a new life and escape the gossip of scandalmongers. She'd also come to elude her stepbrothers. She prayed the issues raised by The Colonist would remain in Victoria and not turn up in San Francisco and find their way into Hollis's awareness.
There was also the matter of when the editorial attack on Jon would come out. She'd neglected to ask. The thought that it could be released before she and Mandi could find new quarters brought a lump of dread lodging in her throat.
Absorbed in thought, she was surprised to find the coach stopping at the legislature building. Rapping on the window, she said, "Why are we stopping here?"
"Governor's orders," the coachman replied.
Sarah fumed as she saw Jon lunge down the steps and stride toward the coach. He'd sent word for his coachman to return so she'd be trapped in the coach, and she didn't want to face him so soon after their confrontation, especially knowing what Mr. De Cosmos had in store for him.
Jon swung up into the coach and settled beside her, sitting so close their shoulders rubbed as the vehicle moved along the uneven road. She attempted to ease away, but Jon managed to wedge her snugly between himself and the side panel of the coach. He gave her an ironic smile. "You left your papers," he said, offering the bundle.
Sarah snatched the papers from his hand. "I fail to see what good they'll do, since what they require is unobtainable."
Jon tipped his head toward her. "May I offer a suggestion?"
Sarah refused to look at him. "Regardless of what I say, I'm certain you will."
Jon leaned so close his breath wafted against her cheek, as he said, "Find someone who'll love and care for you so you won't have to concern yourself with the affairs of a man's world?"
Sarah glared at him. "No one, not even a council of provincial popinjays, will deny me the right to follow my pursuit, and I choose to manufacture ladies' wear. That being my goal, I shall not be deterred from—"
Jon touched his finger to her lips. "I'm certain no one, not even a council of provincial popinjays, could deter you, Miss Ashley, but maybe this will, at least momentarily." He covered her mouth with his in a lingering kiss. When her hand came up to protest, he grabbed it and held it against his chest until she ceased struggling. For the moment, she was too distracted by the feel of his lips on hers to do anything but let out a little moan of disapproval.
To her surprise, Jon was the one to break the kiss. Smiling at her, he said, "I believe your all-consuming goal is at this moment far from your mind. Am I correct?"
Sarah drew in a ragged breath. "That is so very typical. Every man believes every woman can be overwhelmed by physical restraint."
Jon smiled in irony. "If you felt restrained you didn't give that impression."
"As I was saying, Governor, I shall not be deterred from my goal, in spite of the efforts of you and your illustrious legislative council to stop me."
Jon folded his arms in confidence. "We'll see, Miss Ashley. We'll see."
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A little about me. I was born and raised in New Orleans, Louisiana, but gave up city life the first chance I got. I now write from a hand-built log cabin nestled in the evergreen forests of Oregon's Coast Range. Being published in both historical and contemporary romance with Harlequin and Avon-Harper Collins in the past, I vacillate between wanting to write both, but love whatever I'm writing at the time, which for now is contemporary cowboy romances that feature courageous, self-assured heroes with endearing flaws and the gutsy women who capture their hearts, women, these unsuspecting cowboys would lay down their lives for. Although writing's my number one love, over the course of my life I've raised a wolf dog, laying hens, milk goats, and Tennessee Walking horses, built, plumbed and wired three houses, been a professional photographer, and written photo essays for national and international magazines. I've published 24 romances, which include my 13-book DANCING MOON RANCH series, a contemporary western family saga that spans 30 years and two generations. I invite you to visit my website and drop me a line. I love hearing from readers and answer all notes: http://www.patriciawatters.com/
BOOKS BY PATRICIA WATTERS
DANCING MOON RANCH SERIES
VIDEO BOOK TRAILER
Prequel: Justified Deception
Book 1: Righteous Lies
Book 2: Pandora's Box
Book 3: False Pretenses
Book 4: Uncertain Loyalties
Book 5: Becoming Jesse's Father
Book 6: Bittersweet Return
Book 7: Cross Purposes
Book 8: Dancing With Danger
Book 9: Bucking the Odds
Book 10: Forbidden Spirits
Book 11: Imperfect Magic
Book 12: Finding Justice
CONTEMPORARY ROMANCES
In Hot Pursuit
Broken Promises
Adversaries and Lovers
Coming to Terms
HISTORICAL ROMANCES
Colby's Child
Perilous Pleasures
Miss Phipps and the Cattle Baron
Twilight of Memory
Come Be My Love
Twilight 0f Memory (Historical Regency Romance) Page 23